


Traitors

by kingdomkey



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Partner Betrayal, Strained Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomkey/pseuds/kingdomkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"With new knowledge thanks to his experiments on the Classic team, and his simultaneous sabotage of their performance, RED jumped to congratulate the Medic for the part he played in their success. All except for the Heavy."</p><p>What-if scenario. Nothing is canon, obviously. Based on the assumption that Medic's weird experiments on the Classic team were more sabotage than anything for the sake of RED. Also based on the assumption Heavy's counter-revolutionary father was betrayed and he has harbored intense hatred for traitors since.</p><p>No beta. It's not even good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traitors

Their eyes never meet anymore, and not for lack of trying on Medic’s part. When he had revealed himself to be a traitor, his team had been hesitant to trust him again. With new knowledge thanks to his experiments on the Classic team, and his simultaneous sabotage of their performance, RED jumped to congratulate the Medic for the part he played in their success. All except for the Heavy.

He calls more Medic as frequently as he used to before Gray Mann’s introduction to their lives, but his thanks are empty. Heavy braces himself for ubers, tears down BLU’s sentries, then goes right back to ignoring the doctor’s presence. Eyes burning angry holes into Heavy’s back, Medic diverts his attention to either Pyro, Soldier or Demoman. They receive him kindly, with thumbs-up, or salutes in Soldier’s case, and thank him ecstatically.

Outside of the battlefield, Heavy avoids any possibility of being near Medic. He eats quickly, sometimes stealing away with his food, somewhere only Spy is aware of. He steers clear of their mess, seating himself more often than not between Demoman and Pyro. Sniper tips his hat in Heavy’s direction whenever he enters, and Medic tries to catch his attention, but Heavy only nods to Sniper before leaving.

This goes on for a week and a half. Medic would have solved their problem sooner had he not been busy cataloguing his experiments and planning new ones. Soldier had once said something about living forever, so perhaps—

Every time his mind wanders down this path, he remembers his go-to subject wants nothing to do with him now. He slams his fist on the counter and bows his head.

But not tonight. Tonight, Medic will finally confront the Heavy. He rolls his sleeves up, taking on the appearance of the casual, off-duty doctor, and stands by Heavy’s door with his hands behind his back. It takes only forty minutes for Heavy to appear at the end of the hall, and when he does, Medic turns his head and stares him down. Their eyes meet finally, for the first time in what feels like ages, and Medic feels a surge of rage at Heavy’s own angry eyes. At the same time that he wants to roar at him, Medic wants to throw his arms around him and never let go.

Heavy stops, his muscles tense. Medic makes no move to leave, and Heavy is too proud to turn around and walk away. After taking a breath through his nose, Heavy starts forward, moving his eyes from the stiff Medic to his door handle. Medic never speaks and Heavy is glad for it. When he is close enough, he wraps his giant hand around the door knob. Medic comes to life, darting after him, Heavy twitches his head in his direction. He won’t look at him again.

“No,” Heavy says, jaw tight.

“’No’ what?” Medic challenges, eyes narrow.

“Not tonight. I am tired.” Heavy’s arm moves slowly and the door opens just a crack. Medic takes another step forward, prompting Heavy to close it.

“Then when?” Medic’s arms spread questioningly. “Tomorrow? You will give me the same excuse. ‘I am tired.’ We are all tired.” He grows angrier by the second. “You can’t ignore me forever!”

Heavy takes another breath. “Go back, Medic,” he orders quietly and coldly. His shoulders begin to hunch.

“I will not go back.” Medic is firm and frank, his sense of humor lost in this ridiculous confrontation. “You will listen to me. And you will look at me when I am speaking.”

Heavy grunts, sounding as if he is laughing, and proceeds to open his door. Medic closes in quickly, standing beside Heavy and blocking his entrance to his room. He still won’t look at him.

“Move,” Heavy growls, his eyes glued to the metal hinges to their left.

“Look at me.”

Heavy’s jaw tightens further. “Move.”

“Heavy, look at me.”

“Medic—”

“Scheiße, Heavy, not even Scout—“

Before he can finish his sentence, Heavy strikes his body with the back of his hand, throwing to the side. One hand clutches his gut while the other clutches his chest, which heaves to collect the air Heavy has knocked out of him. His eyes dart toward the giant man, who looks down at him with a mix of shame and residual anger. He has never turned his fists on his Medic before. He has never wanted to before.

Medic grits his teeth, pulls himself to his feet and launches himself at the other man. Before Heavy thinks to defend himself, the German’s fist makes contact with his face, and knocks him off balance. He takes two steps to right himself, but he does not draw himself to his full height. He hunches over, one big hand wrapped around his jaw.

Medic’s knuckles have split, and smear blood on his shirt as he grabs for his chest again. Age has made him weaker, but his spirit gives him strength. He stands strong behind Heavy, and manages to snarl around his gasps.

“Now will you look at me?”

Heavy is still and silent. Then he slowly turns his body toward Medic, his face a mixture of emotions. Medic is irate, but when their gazes lock again, his fury crumbles into something not unlike what he is sure Heavy is feeling. The adrenaline rushing through his body slows, forcing Medic to rest part of his weight against the door jamb by his side.

“There,” he almost whispers, he is so quiet. “That is all I wanted.”

Neither of them smile, but the level energy between them speaks of a sort of peace. Medic’s breath events out over time and Heavy’s head and face throb, but they are no longer at odds. When Medic straightens himself to leave, Heavy closes his door and turns toward him expectantly.

And for the first time in years, looks at him voluntarily.

“Tonight,” Heavy says quietly, one big arm stretching behind Medic’s body like a shield. “Tonight, we talk. About you… and me.”

Medic feels a lapse in control, his face going slack at Heavy’s sudden change of heart. He regains control, and clears his aching throat and adjusts his shirt. “Excellent. Then, if there is nothing you need here, follow me.” Without another word he moves forward. Heavy follows and keeps his arm extended, and while they do not exchange looks until they arrive at the door to his barracks, Medic is certain Heavy looks apologetic. They will patch themselves up tonight, he is sure. Heavy swears internally that he will never look away from Medic again.


End file.
